Hope As Long As The Stars Shine
by TreeHugger
Summary: LOTR prequel; Legolas is captured by Orcs and finds help from an unlikely sourc; first meeting of Legolas and Aragorn; no Mary Sues no Slash just friendship; sorry I'm no good with Summaries or Titles; if my Elvish is wrong I apologize I am working on it.
1. Default Chapter

*Disclaimer: I don't own these characters or places, etc., etc., etc. Mine are the ones you've never heard of before. The rest are the Master's: J.R.R. Tolkien.  
  
Hope As Long As The Stars Shine by TreeHugger  
  
Chapter 1 - The Orc  
  
"Edhel u-uva pada ned i mor."  
  
Aragorn turned slightly to glance at his companion whose slowing steps had taken him several feet behind the others.  
  
"Legolas? Is something wrong?"  
  
The Elf's blue eyes, usually so bright and serene, were wide with dread. Slowly he looked over at the Ranger.  
  
"I cannot do it, Aragorn," he said quietly. "I cannot go in there."  
  
Aragorn looked to see that the others were continuing to approach the doors leading into Moria. Gimli hurried ahead to walk beside Gandalf, his gruff voice animated with excitement.  
  
"What do you mean, Legolas?"  
  
"An Elf should not walk in the dark," he repeated, his eyes moving to the dark, forbidding doors.  
  
"I don't wish to enter Moria either, Legolas. I have walked its dark halls before and I have no desire to do so again. But as Gandalf has said 'One must tread the path that need chooses'."  
  
"I know, Aragorn. But.the darkness." He shook his fair head. "I cannot abide it again."  
  
The tall Ranger's dark brows furrowed. Again? Legolas had never entered Moria before. What could he mean? Then a name surfaced in his mind: Emyn Mor Esgal.  
  
"Legolas." He moved closer to his friend and gently touched his arm. "You will not be alone this time. There are nine of us here. In just a few days we will have traversed Moria and will be under the sky and the trees again. Come let us join the others." He paused and held out a hand, smiling kindly.  
  
Legolas nodded and moved to follow him. But in his mind he saw not the great carved stone doors of the Dwarven kingdom, but a group of dark, low hills, filled with fell and secret places where no light had ever penetrated. A place where no star's glow could comfort or sweet breezes cleanse the foul air.  
  
Emyn Mor Esgal. The Dark Hiding Hills.  
  
~*~*~*~*~*  
  
He was on watch that night at the southern entrance of Emyn Mor Esgal. It was known as Carag o Ungol: Jaws of the Spider. There were tales even among his kind of the Giant Spiders, offspring of the horrible Ungoliant. One was said to have inhabited the lower regions of Emyn Mor Esgal. It was rumored that she was still there, hidden down in the deeper darkness where even they dare not go.  
  
Stars blazed in the night sky and his eyes were drawn up to them. So beautiful.so achingly beautiful. Almost the words of a song came to his mind.Almost. His kind did not sing and if they did it would not be about the stars. A small smile touched his lips. If his comrades could discern his thoughts they would think him unseemly.mad. Smiling and wanting to sing to the stars. He shifted slightly his eyes traveling from the sky to the trees below.  
  
The northwestern edge of Mirkwood lay spread before him, the trees silent and peaceful in the glow of the moon. The dark green of the leaves filled his sight, his heart sighed with happiness.  
  
I could be happy there, he thought. Free beneath the trees. This time a laugh escaped his throat. It was no wonder his name meant the forsaken one.  
  
"Egla Ash." A deep, harsh voice behind him caused him to start and nearly drop his weapon. He lowered his eyes to show respect for his Captain as he stepped out of the dim recess of the caves beneath Emyn Mor Esgal.  
  
"Is something funny, Egla Ash?" He asked, his yellow eyes scanning the land below, narrowing as they fell on the peaceful trees of the Elves' forest.  
  
"No, Gorgash. Just a quiet night," he answered.  
  
The large Captain grunted, cracking his knuckles.  
  
"Too quiet. It's been too long since the Elves gave us any sport."  
  
Egla Ash nodded sympathetically, keeping his true feelings deeply buried.  
  
"Everyone is getting restless. And that is not good." The Captain continued moving to stand a few feet ahead of Egla Ash. "Curse the blasted Elves!" He hissed eyes flashing with hatred. "We'll route them all out. Then we'll have some fun." He laughed suddenly imagining just what he would do to the Elves when he got them.  
  
Egla Ash merely grunted, his eyes also on the dark woods.  
  
The Emyn Mor Esgal company was stationed here in the sparsely populated land between Ered Mithrin and Mirkwood simply to harry the Wood Elves of King Thranduil's realm. But the Elves were wary and many of Gorgash's people lay felled by Elvish arrows. As Gorgash had said it had been a long time since there had been any sport in the dark chambers beneath Emyn Mor Esgal.  
  
Earlier that night a small "hunting" party had been sent into Mirkwood, hoping to scare up some game. But already the sky was beginning to lighten. Egla Ash felt his chest constrict with a new pleasure as the pale gleam lit the far horizon. Beautiful.  
  
Gorgash snarled now cursing the Elves and his Hunters, raising his fist to the approaching dawn. But then harsh horns rent the still air and their gazes were drawn to the edge of the wood. The Hunters were returning.  
  
And Egla Ash noted that they were not alone.  
  
~*~*~*~*~*  
  
The Hunters ran, tireless, up the hill, dragging their wearying prey behind them. It's wrists and neck were tightly bound with thick black rope.  
  
The rope, Egla Ash knew was not ordinary rope, but rope such as only his kind made. Tough, harshly woven with bits of sharp jagged metal that tore the skin. It was especially suitable for Elf skin, so fair and soft. And Egla Ash noted with dismay, the captive was an Elf, a young, fair one: the favorite sport of Emyn Mor Esgal Orcs.  
  
"At last!" Gorgash exclaimed, throwing his fist up in triumph. "At last we will have some sport." He jogged down to meet the returning Orcs, malicious smiles on their hideous faces. "Where is Orblat?" He asked the head of the party.  
  
"Dead. Shot by this one. And so were Dorglam, Uglar, Meltagh, and Grelg."  
Even from where he stood by the opening in the hillside Egla Ash could see the angry smile on his Captain's face. He shuddered.  
  
"This one, eh?" He moved to drag on the rope that was wrapped about the Elf's slender neck. His other hand grasped the Elf by the chin and forced the head up. Blood streamed down the side of the beautiful face and ran freely where the ropes held him. But defiance sparkled in the blue eyes.  
  
This seemed to elate the Orc Captain even more. He laughed and shoved the prisoner backwards. He stumbled and nearly fell, but rough hands behind him pushed him forward, forcing him to his hands and knees, the skin of his wrists tearing even more.  
  
Egla Ash knew the fear that must be biting through the prisoner, but he showed it not at all. Surely he knew what happened to the Elves taken by the Orcs. But the young looking Elf merely glared up at Gorgash and muttered something at him in Elvish.  
  
"Thaur Yrch!" [Abhorrent Orcs!]  
  
It was a mistake.  
  
Gorgash's sharp sandaled foot flashed up into the prisoner's chin, felling him with a cry.  
  
"Cursed language!" Gorgash hissed. "You will not speak it in front of me!" He kicked that prone figure again. And yet again. The other Orcs howled and began stamping their hideous feet with excitement. Bones were surely being broken under such an assault. Bruises blossomed on the slim body and blood ran crimson, staining the grass. But just when Egla Ash feared that the violence would escalate Gorgash drew back panting.  
  
"Take him in," he ordered. "We will wait for tonight. Then the fun will begin." With one more solidly landed kick he turned and entered Emyn Mor Esgal.  
  
Cheering and calling raucously to one another, the Orcs yanked the Elf to his feet, laughing as he staggered and moaned. Still laughing and tugging they drug him up the hill and past Egla Ash, who had only a glimpse of long pale hair and anguished blue eyes.  
  
~*~*~*~*~*  
  
Legolas bit back a moan of despair as the stone door of his cell was pushed shut, with the sound of finality that only stone scrapping on stone could make. The darkness was immediate and complete. His body sagged against the cold stone wall. His wrists were fastened with cold iron above his head, his body ached and every breath he drew brought pain, but it was the darkness that troubled him most. He raised his head, eyes wide with trying to see in the blackness. But there was nothing.Here his Elvish sight failed him. He swallowed, his head drooping once more to his chest. He was a prisoner of the Orcs and every Elf knew what that meant and all feared it.  
  
No, he thought, I will not let them defeat me so easily. He raised himself upright, closing his eyes to ban the darkness.  
  
"Aure entuluva," he whispered. Day shall come again.  
  
Softly he began to sing, his mind filling with thoughts of his beloved trees and the stars, the feel of the sun upon his skin. His voice was hesitant at first but gathering strength as the song eased his pain and fear.  
  
Aure entuluva.  
  
~*~*~*~*~*  
  
The members of the Fellowship were seated on the rocks before the entrance of Moria, bathed in the faint glow of the ithildin letters upon the dark doors. Gandalf, his pointed hat at his feet, was contemplating these very letters, a scowl on his face.  
  
Speak Friend And Enter.  
  
What could be more simple. And yet most confusing. No matter what spells and long forgotten passwords had passed the Wizard's lips none had caused the doors to open, not even the smallest crack had appeared to give them any hope. He pulled his pipe from within the satchel slung around his chest and began to pack Old Toby leaves into it.  
  
The Hobbits were chewing on the cold sausages they had been allowed from the stores with great relish. Merry swatted Pippin on the hand when the younger Hobbit reached for yet another one.  
  
"We said four each, Pip," he scolded. "Four."  
  
"I know, Merry. But I'm still hungry."  
  
"We're all hungry, Pippin. So just be quiet," Frodo said softly, his eyes straying to the dark water behind them. For some reason it unsettled him.  
  
"Yes!" Gandalf barked. "Do be silent, you fool of a Took. It is hard to think with your incessant chattering."  
  
Pippin looked abashed and stared dismally at his greasy, empty fingers. Then he raised them to his mouth and began to lick them.  
  
Gimli was sharpening his axe, his impatience held in check, though ever few minutes he would glance over at the Wizard and mutter something in Dwarvish and shake his head.  
  
Boromir's eyes were distant, his thoughts on Gondor, his beloved city, silently cursing the delay. How long could they sit here and do nothing when every day brought grave peril to the beautiful White City? How could they sit here when Mordor's threat was ever growing, its sights on Gondor first? His strong fingers curled around the hilt of his sword. Why couldn't the old conjurer open a silly door?  
  
Aragorn sat with his back against the hard stone wall, his long legs stretched before him. His pipe flared red, casting its warm glow onto his lean face that was shrouded beneath his hood. Earlier he had watched as Legolas had attempted to "get a feel for the stone" as Gimli had said. The Elf's sensitive fingers had caressed the rocky walls, Gimli watching with anticipation knowing that even an Elf would recognize the strength and quality of the Moria stone. But, much to the Dwarf's disappointment the fair young Elf shook his head, his blue eyes apologetic.  
  
"I am sorry, Gimli. It just feels cold to me." And unfeeling, uncaring, and not alive. But these he didn't say.  
  
Gimli sighed heavily, shaking his shaggy head.  
  
"That is alright, Master Elf. Perhaps it will come to you in time."  
  
Aragorn alone noticed the droop in his friend's shoulders. He was trying to overcome his fears. Traversing Moria would not be easy for any of them. But it would be especially hard for one of them.  
  
"Legolas," he called.  
  
The Elf looked over at him.  
  
"Yes, Aragorn?"  
  
"Why don't you sing something."  
  
Gimli grunted, but remained silent polishing his axe lovingly.  
  
"What do you want me to sing, Dunadan?"  
  
Aragorn shrugged, flexing his shoulders.  
  
"Whatever you wish. Something about trees and leaves, grass, stars, weeds.whatever it is that makes you Elves so happy."  
  
Legolas perched lightly on a rock near him, grateful for what his friend was trying to do. He cleared his throat. He looked around at his companions, seeing that all had their eyes upon him, looking hopefully at him. He quickly thought of a song that felt appropriate.  
  
"This is called "Sador Mellon"[faithful friend]." He lifted his fair Elvish voice and though only Gandalf and Aragorn understood all the words it brought joy to all the hearts of those waiting out side Moria. Frodo who understood some of it smiled. It was a most appropriate song. And surprisingly Sam glanced over at Frodo and smiled. It seemed that he had learned some Elvish as well. Frodo felt the weight of the Ring lessen as Legolas sang. Perhaps they could come through this trial after all.  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
It was the feeling of the lash across his face that started Legolas from sleep. He gasped as the pain seared through him. Rough hands freed his wrists, pulled off his clothing and boots and then tied his hands with the torturous rope once more. He was pulled from the cell they kept him in and dragged into the next chamber. The vile voices of the Orcs assaulted his hearing and he cringed at the Black Speech's foulness. The chamber was large, just a rough section of cave with torches about the walls. It was filled with Orcs. He suppressed a shudder and sent a silent prayer to Varda to give him strength to endure what was to come. When they saw him, the Orcs of Emyn Mor Esgal cheered and stamped their sandaled feet and shook their fists in the air. Legolas felt his composure begin to shatter under the assault of their voices. The Orc who had fetched him from his prison drug him to the center of the chamber and deftly tied his hands to a vilely carved stone post. Legolas shuddered as his flesh came in contact with the cold stone. It felt evil. He pulled away from it and stared at it in horror. It was carved with Tengwar letters forming words in the Black Speech of Mordor. Legolas couldn't read them, but he didn't need to to know that they were words of hatred and anger, revenge and terror. Dark stains marked the surface of the post and he knew that they were bloodstains. How many Elves had spilt their lives here? Would he be the next?  
  
"Elbereth, anna enni bellas an bronia!" [Varda, give me strength to endure!]  
  
The large Orc, that he guessed to be in charge strode to him and pulled his head back by his long hair. He held a dagger to the Elf prince's exposed throat.  
  
"Never let me hear you speak that language again, dirty Elf!" He ran the razor sharp dagger across the skin; blood welled up and flowed down his neck. Gorgash shoved his head forward violently. It struck the stone, now stained by Legolas' own blood. "Next time I may cut out your tongue!"  
  
The Orcs around them howled with delight.  
  
"Nay, Gorgash. He needs it to scream with!"  
  
More vile laughter filled the air. Legolas pulled away from the  
stone once more, not wanting to touch its foulness.  
  
"Anna enni bellas." He whispered as he saw Orcs coming toward him bearing long whips. He could see the glint of metal braided into the strands of leather, also stained dark like the evil stone post. He swallowed trying to take himself into the dreams away from this place. He desperately sought the stars, the trees, and gentle spring breezes beneath fair blue skies.  
  
"Anna enni bellas.Anna enni i ol." [Give me strength.give me the dreams.]  
But it wasn't to be. The first lash tore a gasp from his lips, but he clamped his teeth onto his lower lip. He would not cry out. His hands grasped the tearing black rope, feeling it cut into his palms. He would not give the monstrous Orcs the satisfaction of knowing how much they hurt him. He could feel his skin tearing beneath their cruel lashes; warm blood flowed down his back and legs to pool at his feet. To his horror and disgust he felt himself sag against the stone post. Tears welled in his eyes, but he shed them not. He could taste blood in his mouth where he had bitten through his lip. The Orcs of Emyn Mor Esgal were howling and jumping about, bits of Westron mingled with Black Speech. He sagged against the post, its coldness seeping into him.  
  
"Look, Gorgash. He embraces the Mor Sarn as if it were a lover!" One of the Orcs bearing a long black whip remarked. Mor Sarn.Sindarin for Black Stone. The Orcs hated the Elves' language but had chosen to use it to name this evil carved post of suffering.  
  
Legolas forced his protesting body away from it, feeling his legs shaking. One of the Orcs shoved him against the stone and held him there with powerful claws.  
  
"Embrace the only lover you will ever have, Elf." He shouted as the other Orcs laughed maliciously and stamped their feet with delight.  
  
Then there were more lashes until he was released into unconsciousness at last. He had found his dreams.  
  
Egla Ash stood at the back of a group of his fellow Orcs while they tortured their prisoner. He was a strong young Elf. He hadn't cried out even once. That was good. And that was bad. Gorgash would only device more and more methods of pain to unleash on him until he submitted to screaming for mercy. Not that any would be given. Orcs didn't know what mercy was. When the Elf finally lost consciousness they left him hanging limply from Mor Sarn. Several parties left the caves to try and hunt up more prey.  
  
"Take him back to his cell, Egla Ash," Gorgash called to him, hefting his heavy hiltless sword. "Hopefully when we return we will have more to join him tonight." Laughing the Orcs streamed out into the night.  
  
Egla Ash stared down at the bloody floor beneath the Elf. He grimaced and moved to untie his hands and catch his body as it sank to the floor. He carried the Elf back to the cell and gently laid him on the floor. He went and fetched clean water and began to clean the blood from his body.  
  
Legolas groaned and opened his eyes, the renewed pain calling him back. He stared up at the Orc in terror. He pushed himself away.  
  
"Dartha ad! Car u anglenna enni, deleb glamog!" [Stay back! Do not approach me, horrible Orc!"]  
  
Egla Ash watched as Legolas drug himself away and pushed himself to a standing position against the far wall. He had to admire the Elf. He could see that he was in a great deal of pain, but his defiance still burned brightly. And to speak in Elvish when he knew that it would earn him more pain. He was brave indeed. Or foolish. Egla Ash shrugged.  
  
"Im car le u lhaew." [I do you no ill.]  
  
Legolas stared at the Orc in disbelief.  
  
"Im le mellon. Le iest ha." [I am your friend. If you wish it.]  
  
"Im car u henia." [I do not understand.]  
  
Egla Ash smiled sheepishly and glanced out of the cell to make certain that no one was near.  
  
"I want to help you, Elvellon. My Sindarin is not very good. So please speak Westron. I promise not to use the Black Speech that offends your ears so."  
  
Legolas stared at him in disbelief. What manner of torment was this? Why would this Orc pretend to be his friend? And how could he speak any Sindarin?  
  
"Who are you?" He managed at last, his fingers digging into the cold stone of the wall to keep him from dropping back to the floor. Pain bit through him, but he would not let any Orc see his weakness.  
  
"My name is Egla Ash. It means Forsaken One." He smiled slightly. "Shall I show you why they called me Forsaken? For I was you know." He stood and crossed to grab a torch from the metal sconce on the wall.  
  
Legolas couldn't prevent himself from cringing back from the flame as the Orc drew near.  
  
"I won't hurt you, Elvellon. Here. I just want you to see something." Egla Ash moved to stand next to the prince. "My eyes. Do you see, Elvellon? Do you see what color they are?"  
  
Legolas stared in disbelief at the Orc before him.  
  
"Lhun hen." He murmured. The Orc's eyes were as blue as his own. "How?"  
  
Egla Ash shrugged and returned the torch.  
  
"Please let me help you, Elvellon. The others will be back soon and they would not look on my ministrations with kindness."  
  
Legolas stared at the Orc wanting to believe him. He felt his knees shaking with weakness. He nodded.  
  
Egla Ash helped to lower him to the floor.  
  
"I have some medicine- not Orc medicine," he amended seeing the look of horror on his patient's fair face. "I know something of herbs and medicines. Don't worry." He deftly cleansed the wounds and smeared a cooling salve on them. When dry the salve would be invisible.  
  
"Thank you, Egla Ash," Legolas murmured, the pain easing as his Elvish body began to heal itself.  
  
"I have but one request, Elvellon before I leave you to the dreams. May I have your name?"  
  
"Nin esta na Legolas." [My name is Legolas."]  
  
"Thank you, Legolas. Go to the dreams. Gar sidh. [Have peace.]"  
  
~*~*~*~*~*  
  
Egla Ash opened the cell door and peered into the blackness. The young Elf hung in the chains again, his body slumped, head on his chest. On the second night they had managed to wring some cries from his bleeding lips. But still he sang to himself. His voice was low, almost breathless with pain.  
  
"What are you singing, Legolas?" He asked, bringing in a skin of clean spring water.  
  
"Im linnon ned fin, ned fin ned calen. Calen a malthen galenas,  
talt ned i glawar."  
[I sing of trees, of trees of green. Green and golden leaves falling  
in the sunlight.]  
  
I wish that I could sing a song like that, the Orc called the Forsaken One thought as he helped the Elf take a drink of the water.  
  
The Elf's body was covered with cuts, burns, bruises and welts. He knew that at least one of his ribs was broken. Breathing was painful. But it was the darkness that ate away at his spirit. So dark.never-ending.  
  
"Are the stars bright, Egla Ash?" He murmured, dropping his head once more.  
  
"Yes, Legolas. Very bright and beautiful."  
  
"Why don't you sing to me about them? It is painful for me to sing for very long."  
  
"Sing.me? I am an Orc, Legolas, not an Elf. I do not sing."  
  
Legolas didn't speak, his breathing shallow.  
  
"I dinen menel remmen ah celeb elenath.  
Mirdain ned galad, meren a faen;  
Arnediad i tinnu talt dinen am i gur."  
[The silent sky netted with silver stars  
Jewels of light, joyous and radiant;  
Numberless as the night falls silent upon the heart.]  
  
Egla Ash stood silently, listening to the beautiful words fall away into the darkness of the cell. He longed to be out under the stars again. Feeling their radiance against him, filling his eyes with the joy that Legolas sang of. Words crept into his mind.almost a song.Almost.  
  
"Do not give up hope, Legolas," he whispered, moving to leave before his absence was marked. "Gar estel annan i elenath sila." [Have hope as long as the stars shine.]  
  
~*~*~*~*~*  
  
TBC 


	2. Thank you for your wonderful responses.

Disclaimer: Same as chapter 1  
  
Chapter 2: Estel na tol (Hope is Coming)  
  
In the forests of Mirkwood a band of Rangers had made a small camp. They were a group of ragged, stern men with proud faces that told the tale of their noble heritage. Their leader, a tall, lean dark haired man with haunted, weary blue eyes sat before the fire, his face somber with the fell news they had only just heard. A day before they had come into the northern reaches of Mirkwood and were escorted into King Thranduil's palace amidst the tall trees. The Elves, usually so merry and full of talk and song, seemed somber and silent and soon the Rangers discovered why.  
  
King Thranduil lifted his golden head that would normally have been crowned with pale flowers since it was spring, his green eyes sorrowful, as the Rangers were escorted into the room.  
  
"King Thranduil," the leader had said, bowing to the Elven Monarch. "I bring you greetings. I am sorry that we have come at a time of obvious sorrow."  
  
Thranduil acknowledged the man with a nod of his head.  
  
"You are gracious, Dunadan. And indeed it is a time of great lamentation." He glanced down at his hands folded so calmly in his lap. "A week ago my youngest son, Legolas, disappeared while out in the western reaches. The scouts found only his bow and quiver.and."The king's slender fingers clenched together. "And five dead Orcs. The only sign of my son was blood spilt upon the grass."  
  
The Dunadan's blue eyes hardened, his lips tightening in anger and disgust, his strong fingers curled about the hilt of his sword.  
  
"I fear for him, Dunadan," the king of the Wood Elves sighed. "My own beloved wife, his mother, fell prey to Orcs many years hence and that pain has never left me. And now to loose her youngest to the same fate." His voice trailed off and silent tears spilled over his pale cheeks. "I have had many of our scouts out searching for him, but there has been no sign. None that we could read anyhow. He is young, Dunadan. Too young to have heard the call of the Sea. Do you understand? His mother had not heard it ere she died."  
  
The Ranger nodded. Indeed he did understand, better than most would. He knew of some who mourned for one that had been taken by Orcs, her body and spirit broken by their cruelty. But they were Noldor. They had the right to leave Middle Earth whenever they wished. Not so the Teleri. They had to hear the call of the Sea before they could depart from the Grey Havens. She had been sent, alive to await them. But King Thranduil's kin could not seek even that solace.  
  
"We will find him, King Thranduil," he promised, his fellow Rangers glancing at him with surprise.  
  
Thranduil gazed at him in wonder and gratitude, giving the Rangers the weapons they felt they would need and food and drink.  
  
Now they sat silently about their small fire, lean faces intent as they sharpened their weapons and cooked a dinner of potatoes and sausages. They had found no signs either. It had been a week. Perhaps they had joined this quest too late. Yet none said a word against their leader for choosing to undertake this. For they knew him and his secrets. They were his men. Loyal. Even unto death.  
  
Things did not look promising, but Dunadan did not give up hope. If the prince was near he would find him. He only hoped that there would be something left to return. He lifted blue eyes to the dark sky studded with stars. An Elf couldn't live without them. And he feared that the young Elf was locked away somewhere in the darkness. In a cold secret place. Why else was there nothing to attest to his presence?  
  
"Dunadan?" The sharp hiss brought him to his feet. One of his men stood a few feet away in the trees, bow in his hand. He nodded his head to the west. Leaving the eight men at the camp the Ranger followed him into the darkness.  
  
"This is very strange and perhaps important," the man named Daneth whispered as Dunadan pulled his bow from his back and notched an arrow.  
  
The two moved silently through the trees, senses alert. Then Dunadan heard it. Singing. But it wasn't an Elf of that he was certain. The voice was gruff and unlovely, but the words were Elvish. He glanced at his companion who raised his brows and shook his head. They moved to stand several feet behind the being, a large figure seated upon a fallen log.  
  
Dunadan's breath hissed through his teeth. It was an Orc. He raised his bow, but the other Ranger laid his hand on his arm. Scowling he lowered his bow as the man cupped his ear, their signal for "listen".  
  
"Gar estel annan i elenath sila.  
Ind mor lothron garo le  
Gil galad ath sila godref..  
Arad o nain or."  
[Have hope as long as the stars shine.  
Though darkness may hold you  
A star's light will shine through;  
Days of tears will soon be over.]  
  
A look of confusion came over the Ranger's craggy features. What was this? An Orc singing in Sindarin? Then Daneth smiled and shrugged. He flashed his hands at his leader. I told you that this was strange, he signed with his hands. Dunadan nodded. It was strange, but what did it mean?  
  
"You may come out now, Rangers. I know that you are there. I will not harm you. I have been aware of you for sometime. Your camp is not far from here I believe."  
  
The two nearly jumped in surprise as the Orc spoke to them in Westron. Slowly they moved out of the shelter of the trees to confront the singing Orc.  
  
It looked up at them, laying his palms upward in a gesture to assure that he meant them no harm.  
  
"My weapon is over there." He pointed to a tree a few feet away, his crude sword leaning against it. "I didn't come here to fight with you men of the West. I came here to make a song for my friend. Though it is not quite finished."  
  
Dunadan and his companion exchanged looks once more. They would not have thought that Orcs had friends, not even of their own kind. The Orc smiled into the night as he discerned his thoughts.  
  
"I want to help my friend," he continued, caressing something that he held gently in his large hands. "Perhaps you could help. You see I am not good at making up songs. My Elf blood is too far away for that."  
  
Daneth started, but Dunadan remained seemingly unmoved.  
  
The Orc smiled at them. It was hideous.  
  
"You heard my attempt. What did you think?"  
  
Dunadan stepped forward cautiously.  
  
"I thought that Orcs didn't sing."  
  
The Orc shrugged.  
  
"Most don't I guess. But I am trying. For my friend." His eyes raised to meet the Rangers.  
  
"His eyes are blue, Dunadan!" Daneth gasped. "How can that be?"  
  
"They were once Elves, Daneth," he answered calmly.  
  
A look of disgust passed over the younger man's face.  
  
"Elves?! That is not possible!"  
  
"Not possible? But unfortunately it is true. Who is your friend, Orc?"  
  
"My name is Egla Ash. And my friend is Legolas Greenleaf of Mirkwood. You are looking for him, aren't you?"  
  
Now it was Dunadan who gasped.  
  
"Where is he?" He demanded. "What have you done to him?"  
  
Egla Ash stood to his rather imposing height.  
  
"I am trying to help him, but the others are not. You must listen to me now. This may be your only chance to rescue him."  
  
The two Rangers listened intently as the Orc told them of his plan.  
  
"It is a good plan, my friend. One that I hope will work. But." He stared at the Orc. "How do I know that you are telling the truth?"  
  
The Orc looked over at him and held out his hand. Inside it was a silver and green brooch in the shape of an oak leaf. The Ranger took it and held it in his hand. Yes. It was Thranduil's symbol.  
  
Egla Ash nodded and moved to retrieve his weapon.  
  
"If this does not work then he will be dead soon. I will regret that. You must believe me or he will die."  
  
"Tell him that Estel is come," Dunadan said, as he and Daneth turned to leave and go back to their camp to prepare.  
  
"Estel? That is hope."  
  
The man nodded.  
  
"Yes. Hope is come."  
  
~*~*~*~*~*  
  
Legolas swallowed in a dry throat. Tears wet his cheeks as his body hung limply from the chains. It had been on the fifth day that his screams had rung from the stony ceilings of the torture chamber, tied to the foul Mor Sarn. The torture and torment had escalated beyond what he had imagined was possible. From that time on he had not been able to sing. The words that had once come so freely to his mind and tongue seemed lost in a fog that he could not penetrate. His body was in agony and his spirit breaking. And what they had done to him this night was more than he could bear to think of. And now Egla Ash seemed to have abandoned him. But who could blame him, the defiled being he now was deserved no friends. Despair washed over him in cold waves. So this was what it had been like for him mother, dying in despair of the pains inflicted by the foul Orcs. A sob welled in his chest.  
  
"Elbereth." he murmured. "Elbereth.Im gar dannen nedh dae a mor. Car al tir lim enni ah din. Lasto an enni!" [Varda.Varda.I have fallen into shadow and darkness. Do not look on me with silence. Listen to me!]  
  
The door scrapped open and Egla Ash entered, bearing his water pouch. He felt sorrow and pity overwhelm him as he looked over at the Elven prince, his friend. He didn't even seem aware that the Orc had entered.  
  
"Im gar dannen nedh dae a mor.dae a mor." [I have fallen into shadow and darkness.shadow and darkness.]  
  
Egla Ash repressed a shudder of fear. It was not too late, he told himself as he approached the youth. He gently lifted his head to help him drink. The deadness in the blue eyes frightened him more than his muttered words or broken body.  
  
"Legolas, Elvellon. Please do not give in to despair. Please. Help is coming," he whispered urgently. "Soon you will be free of here. I.I have a message from someone. He said to tell you that.he said.Estel na tol. Hope is come. Please, Legolas."  
  
The Elf moaned and shuddered, blinking his red-rimmed eyes.  
  
"Egla Ash?" He whispered, hardly daring to believe that his one friend was here.  
  
The Orc nodded and gently touched the bruised face.  
  
"I am here. Do not give up. Estel na tol."  
  
Legolas face crumpled.  
  
"Im gar al estel." [I have no hope.]  
  
"Yes. You do. Hope is coming. He has told me."  
  
Legolas stared at him with defeated eyes.  
  
"Who?"  
  
"A Ranger. They are coming."  
  
Legolas drew a shaky, painful breath.  
  
"They are coming?"  
  
"Yes. Tonight. Please do not despair. All will be well." The Orc crossed the room and stared out the door then moved to join the Elf once more. "I have made a song for you, Legolas. Will you hear it before you go?"  
  
Legolas nodded, his head drooping once more with utter weariness.  
  
"Yes. I will gladly hear your song."  
  
The Orc was pleased. He began to sing in his croaking, deep Orc voice, but to Legolas it was beautiful.  
  
"Gar estel annan i elenath sila.  
Ind mor lothron garo le  
Gil galad ath sila godref.  
Arad o nain or.  
Estel na tol."  
[Have hope as long as the stars shine  
Though darkness may hold you  
A star's light will shine through.  
Days of tears will soon be over  
Hope is coming.]  
  
~*~*~*~*~*  
  
Earlier that night Gorgash had sent out a party to meet a supply wagon coming from the northeast. He had sent a party of thirty Orcs to escort it back. It wouldn't do for the Elves to attack them then. Supplies were all important to this out of the way post. Only about twenty still remained under Emyn Mor Esgal. He was walking through the caves and corridors when he realized that the Forsaken One was missing. That one was a strange one and not just because his eyes were a cursed Elf blue. He suspected him of harboring feelings that were unOrc like. Maybe he could get him transferred elsewhere. He had also noticed that Egla Ash had no taste for the sport they had all been enjoying. Yes, he would have to go. Perhaps he himself would provide their next sport when the Elf was spent.  
  
Just then the door of the Elf's cell opened and Egla Ash came out.  
  
"What are you doing in there, Egla Ash?"  
  
He turned, his heart pounding, fear coursing through him. So much could go wrong. But he kept his face impassive and moved to stand by his Captain.  
  
"I was just contemplating the Elf, Gorgash. And I have had a thought."  
  
"Oh? And what might that be, Egla Ash?"  
  
"He is nearly dead, Gorgash. Don't you think that it would be more of a torment if you let him die outside? In sight of his beloved forest? Knowing that he will never walk there again?"  
  
Gorgash stared at him. What was this? He studied the others face, looking for duplicity of some sort.  
  
Egla Ash was holding his breath. Did Gorgash believe that what he had said was because of a new awakened Orcish cruelty? So much depended on this.  
  
Suddenly the Captain laughed and clapped him on the shoulder.  
  
"Very good, Egla Ash. Very good. We will make an Orc out of you yet."  
  
Egla Ash nodded and forced a cruel smile across his face.  
  
"Yes. It will be fun to see him die in such torment," he commented.  
  
"Ha! Gather the others I will get the Elf. We'll see how dead he is and then see if we can't help him along."  
  
Egla Ash watched as the cell door swung open. He turned quickly to get the other Orcs. But not quickly enough. He heard a cry of fear and pain and screams and Gorgash's laughter. He hurried down the stony corridor restraining himself from clasping his hands over his ears.  
  
~*~*~*~*  
  
The Rangers crouched beneath the trees watching the southeastern entrance of Emyn Mor Esgal. If Egla Ash hadn't pointed it out to them they would not have found it. It appeared that the Orcs had some cunning. Dunadan fingered the Elven brooch in his pocket. He prayed that they were not too late.  
  
"Can we truly trust an Orc, Dunadan?" One of his men asked quietly, holding his bow loosely across his knees.  
  
"We have no choice. This may be the prince's only chance. We have to take it."  
They sat quietly; blending into the forest about them, dressed as they were in black, rusty browns and muted greens. Each was silent, waiting, ever alert. Dunadan pulled the brooch from his pocket and held it between his fingers. His mind went to his foster family who had suffered so similarly. His foster father still bore the pain of the lose he had suffered, sending his beloved Celebrian across the Sea, her spirit broken and departed. Her children still mourned her going. He curled his fingers about the brooch. Don't let me be too late for this one, he thought, knowing only a little of the emotion that his foster brothers' surely felt when searching for their mother.  
  
"Dunadan!"  
  
He looked up to see Orcs streaming from the entrance. Nineteen. So the Orc was perhaps telling the truth. Dunadan's sharp eyes could pick him out of the crowd. He stood slightly apart from the others, not really part of them. Their vile howls of laughter and cries of anticipation made him ill, but he readied an arrow. The Orcs parted to reveal a larger Orc, the Captain that Egla Ash had told him of. He was dragging the Elf behind him, his fist tightened on the Elf's long hair.  
  
"Steady." Dunadan muttered. "Not yet." They had come this close to victory and he didn't want a stray arrow loosed too soon to ruin their chances of success now.  
  
The Orc Captain dragged the Elf into the middle of the clearing and after pummeling him with his brute fists and feet, tied him to a rough dead tree trunk that stood there, pale in the moonlight.  
  
Dunadan winced at the harsh treatment, but couldn't let compassion be his undoing. He ground his teeth together, a low growl in his throat as he watched another Orc backhand the limp form and punch him in the stomach.  
  
When the head Orc began to unfurl a long black whip, Dunadan pulled back the bowstring.  
  
"On my signal. Choose a target. Fell it and take another. The Captain is mine. But do not shoot Egla Ash."  
  
The others nodded tersely and raised their long dark bows.  
  
~*~*~*~*~*  
  
Legolas gasped in pain as the Orc drug him from the cell and down the corridor. Was this what Egla Ash had planned, he wondered. He bit down on his swollen lips to keep from crying out as his battered body was pulled over the rough rocky floor. Was he at least going to be allowed to see the stars one last time? Or was he just being taken deeper into caverns of Emyn Mor Esgal? It couldn't be that. His mind simply refused to contemplate that.  
  
Then he felt the grass beneath him and he opened his eyes. He moaned with relief. His eyes went to the heavens and the stars.  
  
Bain.bain.melui.[Beautiful.beautiful.lovely.]  
  
Pain exploded as Gorgash began to hit him. Thoughts of rescue and the Rangers left him as the Orc savaged him with fists and feet. He felt himself being lifted and tied upright. Another Orc smashed his fist into his face then his stomach. He raised his eyes skyward once more.  
  
Starlight filled them. He could hear the trees calling to him in their diverse voices: old and deep like streams running through the mountains or light and youthful like leaves falling in the golden sunlight. Mirkwood. Beautiful Mirkwood. It was calling him home.  
  
Pain flared across his chest as the whip slashed down on him. He closed his eyes and tried to steel himself for the next inevitable blow. But it never came. He heard the twang of a bowstring, then several more. His eyes opened in time to see Gorgash, staring blankly at him. The great Orc dropped the whip then crashed to the ground, an arrow in the back of his head. Several more Orcs were felled before they were entirely aware of the attack. Egla Ash hurried to Legolas' side and swiftly cut him free. The few Orcs that had escaped the Rangers' arrows were fleeing back into Emyn Mor Esgal.  
  
"Come, Legolas. I will carry you." He hefted the limp body into his arms and swiftly carried him into the forest.  
  
"Hurry, we must get under cover. They will be back." One of the Rangers said, throwing his bow around his back.  
  
"I think not. They will not venture out by themselves. They are too few now. The others will not be returning for some time. Will they, Egla Ash?"  
  
"No. Not for many hours." The Orc watched as the head Ranger came closer and gently touched the Elf's pale face.  
  
"Prince Legolas?"  
  
But he had lost consciousness.  
  
"Come. I know a place where the Orcs do not go," Egla Ash said and led them swiftly through the woods.  
  
~*~*~*~*~*  
  
A little while later they stood in a clearing ringed about by tall, stately trees. Moonlight and starlight flooded the grass and lightning bugs danced amidst the tree trunks.  
  
"This is a lovely place, Egla Ash," one of the Rangers said quietly, turning to admire the beauty of the place.  
  
"I call it the Gael Dor. Glimmering Place." He gently lay the Elf on the cloak that Dunadan had spread on the grass. The tall Ranger was sorting through his packets of herbs and began to heat some over the small fire that had been started. "I come here when I am needing to be alone." Egla Ash explained. "He will recover, will he not?"  
  
"Yes. He is strong. He was not conquered, as I had feared. Here help me."  
  
Together the Ranger and the Orc cleaned the Elven prince's many wounds, bathing them with heated water and putting healing ointments on them. They wrapped him from his chest to his waist in tight bandages and bound such wounds as required it. The Ranger covered the Elf with a soft gray blanket and eased himself to the ground beside him. He smoothed back the tangled, matted blonde hair.  
  
"King Thranduil will be much pleased at this homecoming I think." He murmured looking at the battered face yet seeing beyond its recent suffering to the beauty that lay beneath.  
  
"Yes. I am glad. I feared that he would walk the shadows forever." Egla Ash commented quietly taking the Elf's hand.  
  
Legolas slowly drew a breath and opened his eyes. Egla Ash was seated at his right hand, looking tired, but relieved to see him awake. The Elf turned his head and gasped. Seated on his left was a lean, dark haired man with a star on his brow like a jewel on a circlet about his head, his countenance kingly and noble.  
  
"Silivren gil." [White star.] He said quietly, reaching out to touch the Ranger's cheek. "Estel." [Hope.]  
  
The Dunadan stared down at him in amazement. The Rangers that were close enough to hear turned to look at their leader in astonishment.  
  
"Yes," he answered slowly, clasping the others hand in his own. "I am called Estel."  
  
Egla Ash stared at them, then at the Elven prince. White star? What was he talking about?  
  
"He is a Ranger, Legolas Elvellon. His name is Dunadan."  
  
"No, my friend Orc. My name is Dunadan it is true, but my name is also Estel. That is what my foster father named me. Estel. Hope." He smiled over at the stupefied Orc. "I have many names. Dunadan is but one of them. Though how he knew I was called Estel I do not know. No one has used that name in quite some time." He looked down at Legolas who was still staring at him in wonder. "How are you feeling, Prince Legolas?"  
  
"I.I am alive, Estel. I mean Dunadun."  
  
"You may call me anything you wish. We will be taking you back to your father soon. I will fix you some broth. Then you should sleep awhile. For now enjoy your stars and trees with your friend." He rose smoothly, stroking Legolas' cheek and moved to fix the food. Then he did seem a mere Ranger, not a king with a star of white blazing on his brow.  
  
Legolas turned to Egla Ash.  
  
"I don't know how to thank you for what you have done for me. I know I would never have survived Emyn Mor Esgal without you and you kindness, Mellon."  
  
Egla Ash shifted uncomfortably, his face hot. The Elf had called him friend.  
"Shall I sing you my song once more, Legolas?" He asked. "For I fear I shall never be able to make another."  
  
Legolas laughed, but then gasped in pain and grasped his side, but a smile still graced his lips.  
  
"I would be glad to hear your song again. Whenever you wish to sing it. But you will make many more. Of that I am certain."  
  
Egla Ash smiled and began to sing quietly into the night to the listening stars.  
  
Mellon. Friend.  
  
~*~*~*~*  
  
"It's a riddle!" Frodo's voice was excited, a great mystery at last revealed. "What is the Elvish word for 'friend'?"  
  
Gandalf snorted. Of course. How simple. Friend.  
  
"Mellon!"  
  
Slowly the great doors divided in the center and swung outwards.  
  
"I was wrong after all," the Wizard chortled. "And Gimli, too." He bent to pick up his hat and staff. "The opening word was inscribed on the archway all the time. The translation should have been "Say" friend and Enter. I had only to speak the Elvish word for friend and the doors opened. Quite simple. Too simple for a learned lore-master in these suspicious days. Those were happier times. Now let us go!" He smiled down at Frodo and gripped his arm, looking very pleased. "Well done, my dear Frodo. Well done."  
  
Frodo returned the smile, his blue eyes shining. He followed the Wizard into the darkness. The other Hobbits scrambled after them with Gimli shuffling happily in their wake, his eyes bright and eager, speaking of the wonders they were all about to see. Boromir stood and stretched, slinging his heavy round shield behind him. He looked over at Aragorn and Legolas.  
  
"We're coming, Boromir," Aragorn called, shouldering his own pack. "We don't want to delay any longer."  
  
Boromir nodded and moved to follow the others.  
  
"Let us go, Legolas. The sooner we enter, the sooner we shall see the other side."  
  
Legolas swallowed and pulled his quiver on and slung his bow over his shoulder. He took a few hesitant steps after the Ranger.  
  
"We will all be together, Legolas. Fear not. You must have hope," Aragorn smiled.  
  
The Elf felt a smile tug at his own lips. Hope. Estel. There was always hope. As long as your friends were with you.  
  
"I am coming, Aragorn." Slowly he followed his friend up the path. "I am coming, Estel." Together they walked threw the great doors and into the darkness of Moria.  
  
Gar estel annan i elenath sila.  
Ind mor lothron garo le  
Gil galad ath sila godref.  
Arad o nain or.  
Estel na tol.  
  
Have hope as long as the stars shine.  
Though darkness may hold you  
A star's light will shine through.  
Days of tears will soon be over.  
Hope is coming.  
  
I Methed [The End] 


End file.
